


We Storm Together

by iwtv



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Letters, M/M, first time smut, james seduces silver, lots of angst and pining from flint, silver is captured, written pre-season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: He crossed the room, his hand on the door, when suddenly James’s hand grabbed his upper arm.“Wait.”John hoped the tiny hitch in his breath wasn’t audible. He half turned his head, suddenly feeling frozen to the spot.“Yes?”“I want you to tell me what was really in that letter.”





	

_James,_

_I hope this letter finds you in time. A quick explanation of how I’m even able to write: There’s a young deckhand, an impressionable lad who’s been smuggling these pieces of parchment and some ink. He has given the letters to the small band of natives you are now acquainted with. They were away on a hunting expedition when the British arrived, having slipped out in the dead of night in their canoes, bound for our island. He also assures me he’s made it to the launches without any redcoats growing suspicious._

_As I told you in the last letter, the crew and I were taken by surprise. The queen’s people on this tiny island had already fought Roger’s men and were defeated. No doubt forcing the information out of them of our impending arrival, they then forced the natives to partake in their trap, making it seem as though they were simply awaiting our arrival to discuss joining forces._

_I should have known something was off._

_But I’m not going to talk about any of it any further. My mind has been a tangle of thoughts these past few days, but now it seems escape may be impossible. The commander has ordered the execution of most of the crew with me, orders directly from Rogers of course. As their leader in this venture, my death is to come first, within a few days’ time._

_I can guess that you’ve sent men out to retrieve us. Please don’t come yourself. The British are small in number here but they are prepared for such a maneuver on your part, due to the fact they have learned my name and the role I play in our resistance. I am sorry. As I said, I should have known._

_This past year has been quite chaotic for us, hasn’t it? For so long we clashed against one another like fire and water. Even when our goals were aligned it seemed we would never become more than cautious allies._

_How far we’ve come. If I do not make it back to camp, please inform Madi that her friendship has meant so much to me in the brief time we’ve grown acquainted. I’ll never forget the motivation and strength she’s given me._

_As for us, I have valued our partnership even more. We have grown even closer these last couple of months, something that has not gone unnoticed by me. I have grown quite fond of our late night conversations and what they reveal._

_What I am trying to convey is that I’ll miss you, James. I’m no good at expressing emotion, something we have in common. Yet the more I’ve grown to understand your emotions, the more I think I shall long for them._

_I hope there is still some kind of light at the end of your tunnel, James. I hope you find some measure of the peace that has eluded you for so long. I’m only sorry I won’t be around to be a part of it._

_Sincerely,_

_John Silver_

_Post script- Try not to kill Billy. I know he’ll never fully trust you and vice versa, but as you once said this war is bigger than personal vendettas; we’re in this together now. I hope we can win—even just a little._

_Very sincerely,_

_John Silver_

*

James held the letter pressed between his fingers for long minutes after reading it. Then he re-read it slower, his breath coming shorter as his chest filled with something choking and unpleasant. Silver had used his given name three times. The previous letter had told him, in quickly-written and hurried script, that Silver had been captured. It had all been very formal, addressed to Flint.

Now it was James, the name Silver scarcely had occasion to use when they were together. Even when it was only he and Silver and Billy, it was still ‘captain.’

Now here it was before him three times. And then there was the ‘sincerely,’ and even ‘very sincerely.’ And John did not want him coming to save him.

James let the letter fall on the table. He closed his eyes, swallowing.

“God damnit.”

Of course he’d sent out men to the island. They’d gone in a large long boat-- twenty of them-- alongside the natives who had agreed to help attempt to rescue the pirates first only because James had spent the better part of a day convincing them that if they rescued his men first, only then would their combined forces allow them to re-take their island and thereby save their own people as well.

It had been a long and tiring day. That was six days ago. Theoretically the trip to this particular island should take three days to reach and so three days back. There was still no sign of either boat.

James rose from the table and pulled out a bottle of rum from under his bunk. He uncorked it and took a long swallow, letting the liquid burn its way down to his gut. Silver’s words swam chaotically around in his head. Was he supposed to read between the fucking lines? ‘Very sincerely’ and ‘we have grown even closer.’ And the bastard didn’t want him to come for him.

James took another drag from the dark glass. The best thing would be to get drunk as quickly as possible, before his mind could continue to dwell on the contents of the letter. He did not want to consider all the things it did say, and he especially did not want to consider the things it did *not* say but that now haunted his thoughts, no thanks to John’s unblemished skills of discourse.

James almost wished he had lied in the letter, had kept his tone formal and his words not so warm. Then maybe he would not need the rum. The night before their first major battle had been the first of many nights around a fire, only they no longer sat opposite one another. Each time, one of them had moved closer, until James found himself with his thigh pressed up against John’s, laughing as John recounted some exaggerated but ultimately funny tale from days past. They would pass the rum between them, sipping gently at it but sipping long into the night, until James felt its heady effects, his face flushed warm and thoughts loose and pliable.

It was in those moments of not quite sobriety he wished something would happen. He was not sure exactly what, only that he longed for John to say something, to look at him *that way* and give James the opening he sought.

He hadn’t realized how desperate he was for such an opportunity until he’d read the damned letter. James bitterly toasted the piece of paper and took another drink. There was a knock on the door.

“What is it?” he said gruffly.

The door opened and Billy stood there, ducking slightly so his massive size could breach the room. His eyes darted over Flint, the bottle, the letter. He frowned.

“Still no word,” he said.

James regarded him passively, then leaned back against the wall from where he sat on his bunk, bottle clutched in his hand.

“It’s still too soon to assume the worst,” Billy added. “Give them at least another full day. Winds probably blew them off course. Could have hit a spot of rain.”

James looked up at his bosun. Billy had always been an imposing member of his crew, but now he looked downright fearsome. He’d let his beard grow out long and wide so that it covered his face. He was dressed for war, dark clothes and with thick bracers on his wrists. He also looked at his captain with something akin to a very patient defiance that seemed to be growing. John was right about him.

“Thank you, Billy. That will be all,” said James, taking a sip.

Billy didn’t move at first, but when James ignored him he finally slipped back outside, closing the door behind him.

James stared down at his boots for a long time, trying to white-wash his mind and the news Billy had brought.

*

He slept little, waking up several times before dawn. He had resigned himself to no rest when he actually did fall into a deeper sleep, only to be roused from it a short time later. Someone was saying his name.

“Captain. Get up!”

Not many people would dare to bark at him in such a way. He opened his eyes to Billy. His immediate instinct to glower at Billy was stifled when Billy’s own eyes were wide, his manner urgent.

“They’re returning, a few hundred yards from the shoreline,” he said quickly. James felt the grogginess drain from him almost immediately. He jumped to his feet and threw on his boots, still wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“Do we know if they were successful?” he asked as he followed Billy out the door. Billy shook his head. “Not yet.”

They hurried down to the coast, where a large crowd of both pirates and the queen’s people were gathering. James saw that both the long boat and the native’s canoe had made it back, but both looked as though their loads were lighter.

James tried to ignore how his heart leaped into his throat. There had been casualties, which meant that they had been seen at some point. That didn’t surprise him. The plan was risky to begin with. Of course there were casualties. Silver should have been in the front of the long boat. James did not see him.

When at last the boats reached shallow water James was at the waterline. And there, getting helped over the side, was Silver, minus one boot and one crutch. He looked whole.

James forced himself to remain still, resisting the urge to run. He waited until the two men aiding him reached the shore, then he took over.

Huffing a bit, John nonetheless gave him a smile when the met.

“Well that went well,” he quipped.

James said nothing, wrapping an arm behind his waist and letting John throw an arm over behind his shoulders.

“They broke my fucking crutch,” John said, trying his best not to jostle James as they walked up the beach. “Bastards did it for spite. When we launch a counter-attack I’m going to break their fucking legs.”

“Well they certainly didn’t break you’re abnormal sense of humor,” he replied, wondering how the fuck John could act so normal after what had happened. He had not been able to pull off the façade so convincingly when James had seen to him after killing Dufresne. That John had been full of fear and power, reeling at the revelation.

He glanced over and John’s lips flashed him a crooked smile, but when he looked away again James saw the smile drop like a weight, his dark brows knotted together.

By the time they had made it back to the camp they were swarmed by people. Everyone wanted to know what had happened. James could tell how tired John was, yet he still managed to whip up an exciting explanation that kept every mouth shut until the end. He even managed to stir up passions for a quick counter attack, though James and Billy both decided to quell the idea for now. Madi had also arrived, and James grit his teeth together she rushed to John and they kissed and embraced. He gave them their room, slipping away quietly.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that John sought him out.

*

John knocked on the door to the small, circular-shaped hut. He’d grown so used to living on The Walrus these past few months that even now returning to this island and its strange yet fascinating village still felt odd to him. Not have the boot felt odd as well. So did realizing that he’d slipped up, had made a mistake.

Seeing James when he opened the door for him offset all those feelings. James told him to come in, looked at him passively, which John had half-expected. Still, he let himself smile, eyes searching over his captain’s form.

“I see you shaved it again while I was gone,” he remarked, nodding at James’s head. He’d let it go somewhat the last few weeks, busy with other matters to give it any attention. Now it was back to the same short, orange fuzz he’d kept it at for some time.

James absently ran a hand over his head, jade eyes flashing a smile at him.

“I needed to occupy myself. I was getting bored with you away,” he said drolly.

John smiled again, but it faded quickly.

“I should have been more careful,” he said after a beat. “I should have used more than one scout. Yet the island wasn’t that big. I thought…”

He stopped, aggravated with himself, with his own sudden weakness. It was always there, in one form or another. He huffed out a sigh.

“Just when I think I’m over one point of weakness,” he glanced down to his missing leg, “another one arises to take its place.”

James nodded to his bunk.

“Sit.”

“It’s all right. I’ve been sitting for days, chained to a post. I’d rather stand.”

James’s mouth ticked out a frown, but he nodded to wall. John followed his gaze to where another crutch leaned against it. He’d lost his original crutch during the skirmish, and after his return Madi had fetched him another one no longer in use. She hadn’t known about the one James had had made for him.

“It’s your backup,” said James, picking it up and offering it to him. John took it without hesitation, giving the one currently under his arm to James instead.

“Thank you. That one isn’t the right height. Ah, much better.”

He situated the piece of wood under his arm.

“So you’re unhurt,” James asked.

“Surprisingly yes,” said John. “Oh, they got a few good licks in here and there, but fortunately they weren’t complete brutes. Aside from breaking my crutch, the bastards.”

John waited, hoping against hope that James would launch into ideas for a counter attack, or their next move against Rogers, or even a run-down of supplies they would need. Any form of conversation aside from the letter John had sent out. He had been desperate for James to receive it only days ago, but now, unexpectedly still among the breathing, he desperately wished James had not received it.

But then James pulled something out from under his bunk. It was a book. He opened it to where two pieces of parchment were tucked inside and sat it on the table top.

“I received your letters.”

John licked his lips and let out a measured sigh. So. Perhaps he could get away by dismissing them.

“Good,” he said, moving slightly so he could rest his good leg on the table top, not looking down at the letters.

“Although you’ll have to forgive the last one’s contents,” he added smoothly. “I…did not expect to find my way back here.”

Brush it off as simple distress, taking its toll.

“No,” said James slowly. His fingertips rested over the letter. He looked at John, jade eyes somehow hot and liquid-like that always made John feel pleasantly scorched.

“You didn’t expect to make it out of there *alive*.”

John nodded. Yes, that was true of course. Perhaps they could leave it at that.

“I’m almost certain I would not have, if not for the men you sent out after me.”

“And if I had shown up alongside them to save you?” James asked. His fingers were still on the letter. He flattened his palm over it and looked up at John again. This time John looked away. Well fuck. He did not wish to go back to the days of trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind James’s words.

“I would be annoyed at you for risking your life,” replied John evenly. “Simply because this war still needs you.”

James’s lips curled upward.

“That’s it?”

All right. This was all right. He could play it this way.

“And of course I didn’t want to lose my friend,” John added as tactfully as he could. He dared not smile at James now, because James would see the lie in it.

James’s eyes searched his own until John wanted to squirm under their heat. James swiped a hand down over his beard, leaning back against the table.

“Of course. Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you get some rest. No doubt you’re exhausted from your ordeal.”

John blinked. James was fishing, he knew, but it very unlike him to simply give up. Despite himself John could not simply leave on that note.

“I’m sorry, but are you throwing me out? Surely there’s plenty we need to start discussing about our next move, yes?”

James lifted his gaze from the ground to stare out straight ahead.

“It’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

John studied his profile, frustrated. James had that distant look about him again, the one that meant the gears in his head were turning and it had nothing to do with their current conversation.

John was about to speak his mind on it, no longer afraid of such things. The barrier between them had been breached already, and John knew any semblance of one James tried to erect was but a flimsy substitute, eager to be torn down by John’s words.

But John bit his tongue. Perhaps it was better for both of them if he dropped this train of thought. He knew it was because of the letter that James was…what? Displeased? Confused? Perhaps both. He would get over it.

John glanced down at it finally, wishing to God he’d never written it. He’d been distraught, thinking about his own death, about how it might affect James. So stupid to actually tell him, even if his words had only scratched the surface of the true terror he’d felt when writing the letter.

Decision made, John pushed himself off the table and limped towards the door, nodding passively at James.

“Very well. I will see you tomorrow.”

He crossed the room, his hand on the door, when suddenly James’s hand grabbed his upper arm.

“Wait.”

John hoped the tiny hitch in his breath wasn’t audible. He half turned his head, suddenly feeling frozen to the spot.

“Yes?”

“I want you to tell me what was really in that letter.”

His voice was low. James was so close behind him now that he knew if he turned around they would be inches apart. John kept his hand on the door. It was suddenly a doorway to freedom from the now too-cramped quarters of the hut. John swallowed, throat feeling thick and sticky. He cursed himself mentally. Of course James wouldn’t let it go.

“I believe my handwriting was perfectly legible,” he replied. “I may be missing a leg, but my fingers work just fine.”

He let the sarcasm creep into his tone, hoping it was just enough to throw James off. Instead his body jumped slightly when he felt James’s breath behind his ear.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

John’s hand tightened over the door when he felt James’s other hand grip his other arm. It was a firm grip, though not tight. What. The fuck?

John clenched his teeth together. He turned his head fully to the side.

“Why are you cornering me about this?”

He heard James sigh, could almost feel his chest deflate but he didn’t move.

“You may know me now, but do not forget I know you too. I helped shape you, helped created you. I know when you’re lying.”

Somehow James’s voice sounded like Temptation Incarnate to him, his breath hot over John’s ear. In fact, John felt the sweat on his temples. Still he found his voice.

“Monsters together, we are then,” he said, matching James’s low tone.

Unexpectedly James slid one arm under John’s and the other up over his shoulder, effectively holding him in place. Now John could feel the barest press of James against his back and his rump. He swallowed, suddenly feeling dazed.

“Tell me what was in the letter, John. I don’t want to argue.”

Argue? John wanted to laugh. Had they been arguing?

“That’s certainly not what I’d call *this*…”

And then James slipped his hand down inside John’s shirt and found a nipple. John couldn’t help the stuttering sound that came out of him. He clenched his jaw, willing himself to fling open the door, shake James off, and leave, but he could not. He could not.

James rubbed his palm over John’s nipple, then lightly trailed his fingertips over it. Sharp chills zinged through him at the sensation. What type of torture was this?

“I care for you,” he said, pissed that he was losing his defense but unable to see another way out. “Is that what you want to hear? I care about you, I do. You know this.”

Another sigh from behind him. James moved the hand that wasn’t playing with his nipple and pushed John’s long ink-black hair away from his neck. No sooner had the air hit it then the shock of pressed lips against his skin hit him. John’s heart sped up.

“What the fuck are…”

He aborted the question when James began planting the faintest of kisses along his neck. His rolled the bud of John’s nipple between his finger and thumb. John started panting.

“No,” he mumbled out. He wasn’t done. He could not give up, not yet. They might lose the larger battle at hand, but he’d be damned if he was going to lose this one.

“James please…stop!”

It came out loud and harsher than he’d intended.

And the hands withdrew from him, along with the lips. The sudden derth of touch was nearly as shocking as its existence in the first place. At last John turned around fully. James stood there and for the first time John saw some as yet un-named thing rollicking through James’s expression, his green eyes ablaze with it. He looked tormented by whatever it was.

John hated the look immediately and realized that this was no time for his own fears to take hold. He realized with sudden clarity what it was James was asking him, just as he knew the answer. He took a hobbled step towards him.

“James, listen to me. You’re right. There was more to that letter than what meets the eye. I would say that you cannot imagine what was going through my head when I wrote it, except that I think you can. This is all still new to me, but not for you. And the more I see you…”

John licked his lips, heart racing. James’s countenance was slowly changing from complete disappointment into something less tormented.

“The more I *see* you,” John continued, “the more I find myself wanting to help you find some *peace*. I want it, very badly. I just don’t know how the fuck I can give it to you, or even if I’m the right person to try.”

James openly stared at him and John couldn’t tell what it meant. For several seconds the look terrified him. Then James stepped towards him so that they were inches apart. John met his gaze.

“You are the right person,” said James. “I do not know if you can give me peace, but I’m willing to let you try. I can help show you.”

John watched his lips move. He dared to look down, down, down at James and he swallowed thickly. It had been a terrible idea because something that was already present swelled within him, made his groin react and his mouth to go dry.

*

John was kissing him. His lips clashed together with James’s and his hands were fixed on either side of his face before James quite knew it was happening.

John had told him he wanted to help him find peace. They had been the right words, the only words he would have accepted. For so long he worried the thing between them was built on a misunderstanding, one that was one-sided and left no room for anything more. Now, however, that fear was cast aside. John understood. John knew.

James kissed him back, grabbing John’s hips and pressing their bodies close together. He was already half hard from standing behind John and teasing him. Now he rubbed his erection into John’s crotch and John moaned. The sound—so primal and unbidden—made him grow hotter.

James devoured what John gave him, plunging his tongue inside John’s mouth, tasting him for the first time. John moaned and broke away, panting. He closed his eyes, fingers curled into the front of James’s shirt.

“Fuck James, what is this?” he panted out. His eyes slowly opened, re-focusing. The déjà vu hit James hard, of how he had first reacted to Thomas behind closed doors, not long after their first kiss. That had been a slow and careful thing, though still passionate. Behind closed doors, however, Thomas had been much more urgent. James remembered the sensations like a potent drug. He saw the same effects on John’s face now, and his cock ached.

James pushed his hands through John’s hair and clung to it behind his neck.

“You know what it is,” he replied softly. “Do you want it?”

He searched the other man’s face, already sure of his answer. John’s lips were still parted, his chest heaving slightly. His dark blue eyes carried currents of fear and lust.

“If this had happened between us a year ago, I would have said no,” he said, voice husky and low. It was the same voice he’d had below deck the night he’d killed Dufresne, James realized.

“And now?”

“Now I am Long John Silver. And he fears no one, not even Captain Flint.”

If James wasn’t certain of the answer John made it explicitly clear by kissing him again, then he shrugged out of his coat, using James’s strong arms to balance himself. John had become quite adept with one leg that James sometimes forgot he still needed to rest it. He guided them both over to his bunk. As soon as they sat down John tore off his shirt as well. The sudden exposure of so much tanned and well-sculpted skin made James groan deep in his throat. John began pawing at James’s shirt next. James let out a light laugh, full of mirth. This moment had suddenly caught up to him, and John seemed to recognize it as well, mirroring his smile.

“I don’t know how good I can be at this,” John told him when they were deep in the clutches of their shared passion, with nothing left to do but the act itself.

“Let me ride you,” said James, hovering over him on the bunk. He pushed his naked body down over John’s, rubbing their cocks together as he kissed the pulse on John’s neck. John groaned, his hands rubbing over the globes of James’s ass and squeezing. Their eyes met.

“You would let me fuck you?” John asked. Despite the haze of lust in his gaze the question was serious. James nodded. He had thought about this before, in the dead of night, of what it could be like.

“I know we must remain as equals,” said James. “And I figured you would never let me simply rut into you against a wall. Well…”

“Oh I’d let you,” said John, eyes ablaze with mischief, “but yes, I’d regret giving you that position of power over me.”

“Then let’s start out right,” said James, moving his hips to cause friction between them again. John hooked a hand behind his neck and pulled him down into a hot and messy kiss. “Yes,” he breathed out.

When James was ready he straddled John’s hips. John looked unsure so James guided his hands to his ass, letting John gently spread his cleft. James reached behind him and took hold of John’s cock and sank down over it.

Immediately his eyes rolled up in his head as John’s cock filled him. There was the hot flush of pain, but nothing could have prepared him for the immense fulfillment that followed. He worked himself halfway down over his cock. John was watching him, straining to see. James worked himself until he could push down all the way.

They both shuddered. James watched John’s gaze flit up to his own as his ass touched John’s balls. He bit his lip.

“God, you feel so good,” John muttered.

James didn’t trust himself to speak. He moved his hips in a very small rocking motion, still buried over John’s cock.

“Oh!” said John, screwing his eyes up and then going slack.

“Just relax,” said James. He rocked back on his legs, placing a palm flat against John’s sweaty chest, fucking himself gently. The feel of the stiff heat inside him was magnificent.

John’s hands wrapped themselves around his hipbones, urging him some more, but James knew neither of them were going to last long. He shifted so he could bend down and kiss John, flicking his tongue out over John’s throat and behind his ears, making him shiver.

Then John thrusted up into him. James let out a little gasp.

“Fucking hell!”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No! No. Do it again,” James huffed out as a wave of heat enveloped him. John repeated the motion and James very distinctly felt his cock moving inside him, brushing close against his spot.

James leaned forwad so he could rock back down into John’s thrusts, hands planted on either side of John’s shoulders as John held onto his hips.

“Faster, yes,” whispered John as James began to speed up, scarcely aware of it. He let his head fall beside John’s cheek as he fucked himself over John’s cock, inhaling the scent of John’s hair and John’s sweat and their sex. John whimpered, hands rubbing more frantically over James’s ass, then up his ribs and back. John curled his fingers so that James felt the dig of his nails. He let out a shaky moan.

“I’m close,” John stuttered. James leaned back so they could see each other, not breaking his pace. John bucked his hips and cock into James, blue eyes dilated with lust.

“James,” John begged, eyes screwing shut.

“Yes, fuck me,” James whispered, bending down so that their lips brushed against one another’s but they were both too far gone to kiss properly. “Give it to me, John,” James heard himself whisper over and over. He was intoxicated with this, he realized. He let it happen. His voice was reducing John even further. He writhed over the bunk as helpless as James, their bodies fighting against one another for release. Then James watched as John’s face went completely slack for a moment, his cock deep inside James and James felt John’s orgasm take over.

“Oh, fuck, yes, that’s it,” James said, puffing out breathless little kisses along John’s cheek and jaw and neck. John pushed himself up into James until he was emptied and James gently pushed back against him until he was done.

He had scarcely paid any mind to his own needs.

Now John took hold of his cock, already leaking, and stroked it, funneling fast over James’s engorged head. It took only a couple of minutes before James’s balls tightened and he felt the moan rolling up from his gut. For a few precious seconds he worried, but then John said in that husky tone,“ Come on me.” It sounded like a command to James.

He let himself slip away from John’s cock and leaned forward on his knees as John let him take over. James fisted himself and came over John’s face. The full force of it hit him like a tidal wave and he was unable to bite back even some of the keening sound that blew past his lips.

And then he felt John’s tongue over his cockhead. He opened his eyes and looked down to see John sucking over his tip, taking what remained that was not already coating his cheeks and chin.

When it was over, they caught their breaths and cleaned themselves. John sat up on the bunk. Behind him James did not move to get up, propping himself up on an elbow. He would wait. John’s choice was his own. But…

“I suppose I should be off now,” said John as he picked up his trousers and began shuffling them on his good leg. “I have no doubt Madi will already have half the day planned out; you know how she is.”

“Hm.”

“And Billy and the others will be eager to know what’s to be done about the redcoats on the island.”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s the matter of more ships. We need nothing less than sloops-of-war, don’t you think? The gunboats are less effective now that Rogers’ men know about our tactics with them.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

John stilled, hands on the buckle of his belt.

Perhaps he should not have spoken the words. Yet it took all of five seconds for James to acknowledge he was caring less and less about the war and more about something else.

Perhaps John’s continued stillness meant he realized the same. James said nothing else. He waited. John turned his head just enough for James to see him lick his lips, brow furrowed in thought. He twisted around more, hand flat on the bunk to look at him.

“We should…talk about this, then.” James couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement.

“Yes, we should,” John repeated. Definitely a statement that time. “There can be no confusion or question about this, just as there is not with any other aspect of our relationship.”

Cold, calculating tone. James found he disliked it immediately. He reached out and plucked up John’s hand from the bunk and rubbed a thumb lightly over his knuckles. They were rough and dry, so unlike the soft and smooth skin he’d had a year ago.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said.

John’s eyes—now mostly blue again—caught his gaze directly.

“Do what?”

James dared to let a small smile slip over his lips.

“Sound so much like me. Not here. Not now.”

At this point John would have either begun a disagreement or could have gotten up. He did neither. He looked down at their hands, at James’s thumb over his knuckles.

“All right.”

So soft James barely heard it. Then John looked up again.

“Now what?” he asked, quite simply.

“I don’t know,” James replied.

To his relief John laid back down next to him, very close, and wiggling in such a way that James could think of nothing else to do but to wrap his arm around John’s waist, pulling him closer. He felt John inhale deeply and sigh.

“We’ll figure it out, won’t we?” he asked.

“We always do,” said James.

John wiggled again, getting more comfortable, and neither one of them spoke after that. For the first time in a long time James was content. Perhaps even more than content, but he reminded himself anything more was just the euphoria still clinging to him. The feeling would Fade. Probably.

***

 

"You in the thunder,  
me inside all the lightning;  
we storm together."

~Tyler Knott Gregson


End file.
